T+89: Hay Daze

Mile 3010: MIDLAND, MI

We head out the next day with the idea that we should make a run for the border of Wisconsin, with the hope that the weather and luck would cooperate.  Fat chance. The wind continues hot, dry, and strong from the southeast.  The route has us going south, then east, south, then east.  Thinking I can outwit the wind, I have us turn on an alternate road, only to find that the bridge we needed to cross is out.  We wander, half lost, through farm roads, hoping we can make our way back to the route in a few miles.  We finally do make our way to the tiny town of Dalbo, but miss what is considered an essential stop on this route…the Adventure Cyclists’ Bunkhouse, where one of the founders of the organization has created a respite for cross country bikers.    We have been wrong so often today, there is no way we are backtracking up the hill to visit that respite. 

At Dalbo, we decide we have had enough of beat-up back roads that jar our bones and add extra miles.  We decide to follow Highway 95, a major cross state road that will take us through the Cambridge and North Branch.  It is Saturday.  This is farm country.   How busy could it be?  The answer is a lot.  It continues hot, and we are getting overheated, so we stop in a nice old tavern in Cambridge for a cold drink.  We better find a place to stay.  I start the search.  I call everything in North Branch, which is on Interstate 35.  Sold out.  I move up and down the Interstate, calling various establishments with 15 miles.  Sold out.  We try websites of motels in Cambridge.  No availability.  As a last final shot, I call the closest motel, just to see if the desk confirms what the website said.  The young voice at end of the line confirms that they are sold out, but….they just had a cancellation on a jacuzzi king at a high price.   Eeeek.  We take it.

When we get to the motel, we ask the impossibly young desk clerk, “What on earth is going on?  Why are there no rooms within 50 miles?”  It’s Hay Days, she says, certain we have an idea what that means.  What is Hay Days?  Why it’s the biggest event of the season around here.  People come from miles around, but especially Canada, to race their snowmobiles on alfalfa hay.   There are hundreds of contestants and many thousands of spectators.  Haven’t we ever heard of Hay Days?  It used to be here in Cambridge, but it got so big, they moved it over by North Branch.

The Crossing Motel is jumping, with all sorts of families bringing in bikes, and kids, and coolers.  There are groups of men drinking beer after beer on the porches outside.  Most of the cars do indeed have Canadian license plates.  A good many are pulling trailers.  There is a lot of noise up and down the halls.  It is clear that not only is the motel full, most rooms are full to capacity as well.  We decide to do our laundry as we have had to end our ride so early.  As I make my way down the hall, I look in one room and see a harried set of parents, luggage strewn everywhere, two kids jumping on the beds, and the cry, “What do you mean you don’t know where the tickets are?”

As luck would have it, the dryer fails to dry.  The perky young desk clerk, who also has to do the entire motel’s laundry, volunteers to dry our clothes in the industrial dryers.  She takes our damp clothes and tells me to check back in twenty minutes.  I do.  Still not in the dryer; things have been hectic.  I go again in another twenty minutes, then another, then another.   At this point, I figure it won’t get done until after things have quieted down for the night, so Wes and I decide to take advantage of the Jacuzzi.  We have just settled in when there is a knock at the door.  Wes answers it, wrapped in a towel.  The flustered desk clerk stammers,  “He…he…here’s your laundry.”

The next day we head out and the road is packed with Hay Days traffic.  We don’t think we have ever seen so many big pickup trucks pulling snowmobiles on trailers, or carrying them in their beds.  There is an edginess in the traffic, with lots of revved-up motors and unsafe passing, as individuals in the big string of traffic try to get to the race just a little quicker.   All along the way, anybody who has got anything to sell has got it out along the road.   There are garage sales, art sales, bake sales, innumerable snowmobiles, motorcycles, four-wheelers, farm equipment--a multi-mile yard sale.  Soon there are parking hawkers, trying to encourage drivers into their ad-hoc parking lots.  The prices climb from $5 to $10 to $20.  Finally, we are to the big cut hay field where the races are taking place.  We can hear them long before we can see them.

Off in the distance, we see numerous circus-size tents set around two hills which form the grounds.  One hill was for seating. The other, much lower, is the race track.  There are thousands of trailers, trucks, tents, and various kinds of transportation equipment between the race track and the road.  There are police on the roads directing traffic and shuttles running back and forth.  People are rushing about in a high state of excitement. 

Wes and I are flummoxed.  We had never even heard of grass snowmobiling 24 hours ago.  Of course, it is our special kind of luck to be cycling through its premier event.  A few miles past the agitation and noise of thousands of snowmobiles circling in a cut alfalfa field, I spot a little shop that says, Amelund Mercantile: Coffee, Housewares, Baked Goods, Fresh Eggs—Since 1910.  Looks like our kind of place. 

We go in and meet Anna.  She is a registered nurse who works in Minneapolis, but who commutes back and forth to her hometown to care for her elderly parents and this store.  She has just purchased a domestic espresso maker and is interested in getting our feedback on her efforts.  The building has been the center of this little Swedish community since its founding.  There are lots of interesting dishes and odds and ends.  I wander about, picking up plates, looking at embroidery, trying on wool jackets.  I feel a little homesick.  

A young, tall, heavy-set woman of about 19 comes in to share news with Anna, but upon seeing, stops in her tracks, apologizes and very nearly leaves.  Anna tells her it’s ok, that we’re just having coffee.  She blushes, self-conscious around strangers.  However, it is not long until we are busily chatting.  She loves the Hay Days and all the excitement it brings.  She tells us that it brings in 250,000 people over the whole week and that there are contestants from Alaska and Washington State, and from every province in Canada.   

She is less excited to talk about the economy around here, especially about something as boring as farming, which she has done every day of her life.  We talk about the drought just north of here and she tells us they will only get three cuttings of hay this year.  Finally, she pulls Anna aside and whispers the news she came to share.   Anna returns to us and tells us they are planning a baby shower.  She tells us how worried she is about this little town surviving.  Most of the young people have moved to Minneapolis, just as she had in her younger days.  She expects to stay at her job as a union nurse a few more years, then she will be back full time in Amelund and in this little store.  She shakes her head, “Keeping my family and this little town together, that’s what it’s all about for me.”

She points out the prettiest way to return to highway and watches us go, waving and smiling.  We felt honored to meet her.  This was the Minnesota we had expected to meet.  We are glad we did.  Ten miles down the road, we cross the St. Croix River and enter Wisconsin.  Immediately, the energy and the story changes.  But that’s a story for another day.

..........................

posted from Midland, MI